


hearing the pulse in my veins

by Resamille



Series: perchance to dream [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Begging, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Established Relationship, Feelings, M/M, Mild Painplay, Pack Dynamics, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Soul Bond, Vampires, a lil bit of predator/prey, maybe a lil more than mild, mind reading kinda?, or some shit like that - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 04:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18175985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resamille/pseuds/Resamille
Summary: “I told you,” Oikawa hums, low and distinctly pleased. “You needed me. Needed my taste.”They're pack creatures—turned vampires need their sire's blood to keep themselves sane. It's an old habit of Iwaizumi's, to put off drinking from Oikawa because he knows the brat spreads himself too thin, too often. But sometimes, sometimes, it's better to give in.Alternatively titled: two dorks with sharp teeth, one bed





	hearing the pulse in my veins

**Author's Note:**

> title from midnight thoughts by set it off
> 
> loosely based on [this art by nekokat42 on tumblr](http://nekokat42.tumblr.com/post/178322069637/vampire-iwa-patron-request-oikawa-is-smug) idk man it just happened
> 
> mostly standalone if you're just here for the porn feel free to get down and dirty without reading the kenhina companion fic uwu

A cry rings throughout the mansion. There's something guttural in it, viscous and possessive and fury-filled.

It makes Oikawa's blood run cold.

Well—colder, perhaps.

He resists the shudder that tries to work down his spine as he slips through the halls, anticipation running high in his veins. He can hear Iwaizumi's stalking footfalls from the floor below. He can also hear Hanamaki's judgmental sigh from the kitchen, but Makki can go eat one of Matsun's socks for all Oikawa cares.

It's been so long, since they've played like this.

Iwaizumi growls again, closer this time, on the same floor now, and Oikawa lets himself into one of the spare rooms as quietly as possible.

This chase is all part of the buildup.

Already, he feels his chest tighten. Fear slices through his bones, tempered with excitement. Arousal.

He can smell Iwaizumi, still high off a recent hunt, and the scent of elk blood makes Oikawa's nostrils flare in response. God, they should go hunting together soon. Fuck the responsibility of the pack—Makki can watch over them for a night while Iwaizumi and Oikawa stalk their prey through the woods. Stalk each other, too, until they're fed and each touch is livewire, until they claw and bite and claim, just to see each other bleed while they fuck one another against the forest floor.

Oikawa feels his cock twitch in his pants. God, he can't _wait—_

“I can smell you, Brat,” Iwaizumi snarls from the hall.

If it were anyone else—Matsun, even—that had spoken to Oikawa like that, he'd have torn their heart from their chest. He's spent too many years on this planet to be degraded by some unrepentant fledgling. (That ungrateful kid that Karasuno took in is lucky to be alive.)

But it's different with Iwaizumi. Because it's Iwaizumi. Oikawa's first—his oldest partner—his best friend.

Something pulls taut in Oikawa's chest, and his body tenses with it. Footsteps stop outside the bedroom door, and Oikawa scrambles for cover as Iwaizumi slams into the room. The snarl he lets out at the sight of Oikawa is something animal, hungry. Oikawa just manages to put the bed as a barrier between them when Iwaizumi freezes in the doorway, eyes trained on him.

“Iwa-chaaan,” Oikawa purrs, high and obnoxious. “Did you enjoy—”

In a second, Iwaizumi is in front of him. In another, he's tossed Oikawa bodily onto the bed. On the third, Iwaizumi crawls over him, fingers digging claws into Oikawa's thighs to keep him in place.

“You—” Iwaizumi growls, low, dangerous. “You fucking—Brat.”

“Come on,” Oikawa murmurs. “You want to.”

“Fuck you,” Iwaizumi spits, and rips Oikawa's shirt down the center of his chest. The remnants hang loosely from his shoulders. Oikawa lets out a pleased noise at the sound of torn fabric, cock twitching again.

Iwaizumi stares at him, livid, and then he's biting into Oikawa's neck.

A breathy noise falls from Oikawa's lips, and his hand automatically comes up to thread through Iwaizumi's hair, even if it's matted down with sweat. Pain stings across his nerves, followed by satisfaction, pleasure. His body sings for this, his bond with Iwaizmi calls out, thrives between them.

“I told you,” Oikawa hums, low and distinctly pleased. “You needed me. Needed my taste.”

Iwaizumi tears away from Oikawa's neck, leaving searing pain where his fangs rip flesh. Blood is smeared down his lips and chin, dripping from his mouth. Oikawa wants to devour him, in turn.

“Fuck you,” Iwaizumi says again, this time with less heat now that he's been appeased by his sire's blood. “Fuck you,” he repeats, because he knows Oikawa is right.

Oikawa just smirks at him. He lets the hand still tangled in Iwaizumi's hair fall to his cheek, thumb caressing over Iwaizumi's cheekbone. Iwaizumi's eyes harden.

Oikawa has half a mind to run his thumb through the blood on Iwaizumi's face, maybe lick it from his lips, but before he can, Iwaizumi's head ducks down.

Oikawa is faster than Iwaizumi—as a rule, perks of being an alpha—but there are times Iwaizumi still manages to catch him off guard. Like now, as Iwaizumi rips Oikawa's pants off in a move so quick it leaves Oikawa reeling from the sudden cool air on his skin.

And then: heat. At least, in comparison to Oikawa. Iwaizumi is always just a little bit more human, a little more alive, a little warmer. His mouth is hot against the flesh of Oikawa's thighs.

It's half a kiss, pressed into the sensitive skin of Oikawa's inner thigh, along the artery hidden under pale exterior. Then, Iwaizumi bites down, fangs sinking deep into Oikawa, and all Oikawa can do is toss his head back and groan.

He's wanted this, for so long. Curse Iwaizumi and his selflessness. Even after all these years, he holds off on drinking from Oikawa until he can't take it anymore. Until the bond between them tightens so much it threatens to drive them both crazy, and one of them snaps.

Curse him, for driving them to this point.

But God, the resolution feels so good.

Between them: something invisible. As Iwaizumi drinks, Oikawa can feel the bond between them come to life. The power of it thrums through him, a heavy beat, shared between them—he always forgets, that being with Iwaizumi reminds him what it's like to be _alive_.

Oikawa feels his senses flare, even though he's the one being bled. It doesn't matter that Iwaizumi is taking from him, not when Iwaizumi is bound so closely to the remnant of Oikawa's soul. When Iwaizumi thrives, he gives back—in body, in heart.

Suddenly, Oikawa can feel the pack, all at once. This, right here, with Iwaizumi keeping him steady, even as his teeth pierce Oikawa's flesh and his grip leaves bruises on Oikawa's thighs and hips—this is all Oikawa needs to know he the sire of his pack.

Hanamaki, making tea, worrying about Oikawa and Iwaizumi's bad habits but trying not to show it. Matsukawa, out hunting with Kunimi, teaching him how to better sneak up on a buck. Yahaba, reading in the library, fingers idly tapping magic into a stone, reforming it with each touch. Those are just the ones Oikawa's sired directly.

Through them, Oikawa can feel the others, another link in the growing chain of his tight-knit clan. And then, even further: the half-born that Karasuno took in.

He must tense in response to the thought, because Iwaizumi growls at him, eyes snapping up to meet Oikawa's lidded gaze.

Iwaizumi pulls away. He kisses one of the punctures he leaves behind, as if apologizing. It smears blood over Oikawa's skin.

“I'm not apologizing,” Iwaizumi grumbles at him.

“You are,” Oikawa says, even though he doesn't really need to say anything at all. “You always have.”

Iwaizumi's chest rumbles with some sort of growl, but it sounds fond to Oikawa's ears. Ducking his head, Iwaizumi tucks his against Oikawa's hip, inhaling his scent.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says. “Hajime. You should just come to me earlier.”

“You don't need me straining you,” Iwaizumi mumbles against Oikawa's skin. “Not when you're taking care of the pack, too.”

“I'm fine, Hajime,” Oikawa says, and he knows Iwaizumi can feel it, too, over their bond. “You know I depend on you, right? But that doesn't mean you have to suffer for the sake of the pack.”

“You can't just prioritize me—”

“You _are_ my priority,” Oikawa insists. “I can take care of them fine, and I can take care of you, too.”

Iwaizumi slowly lifts his head. Oikawa tilts his chin back, baring his neck, submissive and alluring. Iwaizumi's expression turns from gruff to wounded.

“You need to keep the others in line, and with Kyoutani...”

“Stop blaming yourself for his recklessness,” Oikawa snaps. “I'm the one who took the chance on him, too. It's not your fault, so stop sacrificing yourself. The pack suffers when you're not at your best. You take care of them, too.”

“Stop it,” Iwaizumi says.

“Just admit that sometimes I actually know how to be a good sire.”

“No,” Iwaizumi huffs, and then pulls himself up so that he's looming over Oikawa.

“I'll convince you yet,” Oikawa hums. He runs his nose along Iwaizumi's jaw, mouths softly at Iwaizumi's neck.

Automatically, Iwaizumi's posture shifts, head tilting away to give Oikawa access. Bonded, pledging to his sire.

Oikawa presses a kiss to Iwaizumi's throat. “I'm fine,” he assures him. “I'll hunt tomorrow. Come on, Hajime. Indulge, just a little.”

Iwaizumi sits back in Oikawa's lap. “I've had enough.”

Oikawa follows him. He sits up, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi's waist to keep him in place. “Fine,” he says shortly. “I'll go offer myself to Kindaichi. Maybe Kyou-chan wants a drink. They know how to show their sire they want him.”

Iwaizumi lets out a groan. Oikawa feels his resolve cracking through their bond.

“Hajime,” Oikawa says. He slides his hands up from Iwaizumi's waist, dragging his shirt off as he goes. Iwaizumi lets him. “I'm at my best when I have you by my side. I need you.”

“Damn you,” Iwaizumi snarls, and then he's on Oikawa again.

Before, Iwaizumi's bite was watering a drought-touched plant. Now, it's an animal, greedy and ferocious, eating more than its fill if for no other reason than the joy of the kill. Oikawa slips his arms around Iwaizumi's neck, touch ghosting over his cheeks, his jaw, as he feels Iwaizumi swallow, feels blood drip down his collarbone.

“ _Yes_ ,” Oikawa breathes out. He goes lax against Iwaizumi.

Something heavy layers over them both, shifting the mood. Oikawa's unsure if its the supersaturation of their bond, blood and magic thick and satisfying in the air, or if its Iwaizumi finally relenting against his stubborn pride, finally admitting that he needs this from Oikawa. That they need each other.

Iwaizumi drinks slowly, and eventually he just lets the trickle of Oikawa's blood flood into his mouth rather than coaxing it out with the suction of his lips. Oikawa feels the lethargic working of Iwaizumi's throat when he swallows, and when Oikawa lets one hand slide between them, over Iwaizumi's chest, Iwaizumi shudders.

“God,” Oikawa mumbles. He feels like he's moving underwater and yet at the same time everything in the room looks a little brighter instead of the muted distortion he expects. “Fuck, Hajime.”

In response, Oikawa feels Iwaizumi's arousal take over their bond, and Iwaizumi grinds down into Oikawa's lap.

There's a memory, playing over in his mind: their first time, so long ago, when Iwaizumi still tortured himself over what he'd become, with Oikawa still learning how to reconcile that if he had turned Iwaizumi _into_ a monster, then that meant Oikawa had _always_ been one. That first time was brutal; it stripped them raw. It left them both wanting in ways they hadn't anticipated.

“Stop thinking,” Iwaizumi grumbles. He pulls back to look down at Oikawa, mouth parted to show off red-stained fangs. His thumbs comes up to push on the wounds at Oikawa's neck. “You're healing slowly.”

“I'm fine,” Oikawa insists. He lets his head tip forward until his brow is resting against Iwaizumi's collarbone and absently places a kiss to Iwaizumi's skin.

“I can take care of you, too,” Iwaizumi murmurs, voice rumbling through his chest and against Oikawa's lips.

“Tomorrow,” Oikawa says. Promises. He can feed tomorrow, when Iwaizumi goes hunting with him. Like old times. Let them be like fledglings again, wild and fierce and hungry.

Iwaizumi hums, but relents. Oikawa feels him, pressing in from all sides of his mind. Iwaizumi is already taking care of him.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, answering Oikawa's unspoken question.

Oikawa tilts his head up to look at Iwaizumi out of the corner of his eyes, lips twisting into a smirk.

“Don't look so pleased with yourself,” Iwaizumi huffs. He pushes at Oikawa's shoulders, forcing him back down to the bed.

Oikawa resists, for a moment, before his body catches up and eases under Iwaizumi's touch. He drags his hands down Iwaizumi's thighs as he leans back, letting his nails catch and tear at Iwaizumi's sweats. All teeth, all monster, Oikawa grins at his sired. “Wreck me, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi rolls his hips again, slow and sensual, and Oikawa realizes his mistake instantly. He hadn't meant—but of course, Iwaizumi knew what he _meant_. That doesn't mean Iwaizumi is going to give him what he wants. Iwaizumi's going to take him slow.

Iwaizumi smirks at him, gaze dark and terrifying, and Oikawa shudders under the weight of it. The pressure of Iwaizumi around him—caging him in as Iwaizumi dips down to bite at Oikawa's neck without drawing blood this time—turns from a gentle reminder to something all-encompassing. There's no escaping each other. There's no hiding.

Iwaizumi lets his fingers trail over Oikawa's side, scratching lightly across his ribs, pausing to press into the blooming mark against his hip from Iwaizumi's tight grip earlier, ghosting over the puncture wound still healing on Oikawa's thigh. This, too, is a game.

Iwaizumi's mouth turns from sharp to soft, lips trailing over bitemarks, tongue laving over bruises, breath cooling heated skin. It's all too little—all too much, echoed across their bond until the only thing Oikawa knows is the breathy whisper of _Hajime_ choked from his throat.

There's the threat of Iwaizumi's fangs, nipping at Oikawa's jugular. Oikawa is an alpha, a creature of prey, top of the food chain. His pulse shouldn't quicken at the thought of Iwaizumi's easy access to inflicting pain; the fact Iwaizumi can overpower him almost entirely should not be as enticing as it is.

And yet.

Iwaizumi sucks a bruise onto Oikawa's collarbone, rough enough to make it hurt, and Oikawa tips his head back and _feels_.

“I said to stop thinking,” Iwaizumi grumbles against his skin.

“'M not,” Oikawa pants out.

“Uh-huh,” Iwaizumi answers.

He pulls away, and Oikawa lets out a whine, eyes snapping open (when had he closed them?) to plead with Iwaizumi. But before Oikawa can reach for him, Iwaizumi rises up on his knees, grabs Oikawa by the hips, and flips him over quick enough to leave Oikawa dizzy.

Instantly, there's a hand in Oikawa's hair, fingers tangled in it, and pressing his head against the bed. With his other hand, Iwaizumi yanks Oikawa's hips off the bed, fingers digging directly into same spot he'd already bruised. Oikawa feels the remains of his shirt slide down his back until its bunched at his shoulder blades.

Iwaizumi growls at him. Oikawa forgets to breathe.

“Stay,” Iwaizumi orders.

Oikawa is his alpha. Iwaizumi does not have the power to command him. Iwaizumi's voice should not compel Oikawa to do what he says. Iwaizumi should not have this much sway over him.

Iwaizumi leans down, breath hot over Oikawa's ear. He grinds his hips against Oikawa's bare ass shamelessly. “What did I just fucking say about not thinking? I can hear you losing your mind.”

“Maybe you're not doing a good enough job distracting me, then,” Oikawa spits back, except his mouth is pressed against the bed, so all his words come out muffled, slurred by desire.

Iwaizumi's hand in Oikawa's hair tightens to the point of pain, and Oikawa moans.

“Stay,” Iwaizumi snarls again, and he leans back.

Oikawa obeys; it has nothing to do with power and everything to do with Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi takes his time, sliding the hand from Oikawa's head and down his back, following the slope of Oikawa's spine. Suddenly, their bond is overwhelming, Iwaizumi's sheer adoration flooding Oikawa's senses. Iwaizumi doesn't need to say anything for Oikawa to hear it: _you're beautiful, you're my everything_.

Iwaizumi runs his hands from Oikawa's hips, down his thighs, and digs his fingers into Oikawa's skin, fingernails biting marks into sensitive flesh. Oikawa lets out a pleased rumble and grinds his hips back against Iwaizumi's clothed cock.

It's then that Oikawa can feel Iwaizumi's determination crack.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Iwaizumi groans, and Oikawa looks over his shoulder just in time to watch Iwaizumi bite his lip and tip his head back with a drawn-out exhale.

Oikawa presses his smirk into the bed. He curls his arms above his head, arching his back, and spreads his legs just a bit wider.

Iwaizumi jerks his hands away like he's been burned.

This time, Oikawa knows exactly what he's doing. He can feel Iwaizumi's impatience over their bond, can feel desire thrumming between them. No longer is Iwaizumi going to draw this out, not when Oikawa knows exactly how to play his own body to get what he wants. Iwaizumi is easily tempted, and no one knows this better than his temping sire.

Oikawa hears the sound of Iwaizumi shuffling hastily through a couple of drawers in the nightstand. It only takes a moment for Iwaizumi to come back, naked, and another moment before he's teasing Oikawa's rim with slick fingers.

Iwaizumi uses his free hand to grip Oikawa's ass, thumb pulling the flesh out of his way so he can watch. When Iwaizumi sinks a finger into Oikawa, finally, they both groan.

“Another,” Oikawa gasps out immediately, and Iwaizumi, blessedly, complies.

The sting of the stretch shoots electricity up Oikawa's spine, and he savors it, shaking as he pushes back against Iwaizumi's hand.

“God,” Iwaizumi says, breath fanning across the small of Oikawa's back. “You're greedy for it.”

Oikawa lets out a huff, but that's the only reply he manages, because Iwaizumi scissors his fingers apart and sends that spark of pleasure-pain up Oikawa's spine again.

Iwaizumi ducks to bite Oikawa's ass, and Oikawa clenches around Iwaizumi's fingers. It's too much, and he needs more.

Iwaizumi draws his fingers out slowly. “Y'know,” he murmurs, voice hoarse with a held-back growl. “I was going to take you apart nice and slow.”

Iwaizumi rams his fingers into Oikawa, drags harshly against his prostate. Oikawa jolts and cries out. He's pleading for something—not sure what it is. Iwaizumi does it again, digging the pads of his fingers against Oikawa's prostate over and over, until Oikawa's nothing but a mess of soft moans and pleas for more.

“But look at you,” Iwaizumi continues. “You're desperate. Can't help but beg for my cock, can you?”

Oikawa lets out a whine. Iwaizumi adds another finger, too soon, just like Oikawa craves. Oikawa feels his legs shake and threaten to give out. Iwaizumi brushes over his prostate again, and Oikawa's knees slip slightly before he manages to catch himself.

“Don't you dare,” Iwaizumi snarls. “Stay, or I won't fuck you.”

Oikawa knows its an empty threat. He does, except that Iwaizumi's finally stepped it up—and Oikawa hasn't had a coherent thought since Iwaizumi put his fingers in his ass. So, instead of calling Iwaizumi out, Oikawa whimpers, trembles with the exertion of obedience.

“Good boy,” Iwaizumi says, and runs his hand down the back of Oikawa's shaking thigh.

And that's where Iwaizumi keeps him—teetering at the edge, overwhelmed and pleasure-drunk and desperate. Oikawa's drooling onto the bed, he knows, but he doesn't _really_ know. The thought is as fleeting as anything that isn't Iwaizumi's touch.

Just as overpowering as Iwaizumi's fingers spreading Oikawa apart, as his lips across his skin: the constant stream of thought across their bond. The way Oikawa looks, delicious and tempting, whining for Iwaizumi's cock like he needs it to breathe. The way he clenches around Iwaizumi's fingers, needy. The way he lets Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi alone do this.

The years have not lessened the passion between them. Partners from the beginning. Partners to the end.

Iwaizumi pulls his fingers out, and Oikawa whimpers, clutching at the sheets. His entire body is shaking now. His legs slip out from under him and he sprawls across the bed, panting.

“What did I say?” Iwaizumi snarls.

Oikawa whines, voice thin. “Iwa... Iwa...”

Iwaizumi answers by bringing his hand down hard on Oikawa's ass. For a moment, Oikawa chokes on his sudden inhale, breath caught in his chest.

And before Oikawa can remember how to breathe, Iwaizumi is tugging at his hips up, holding him in place, and shoving his cock into Oikawa.

Oikawa lets out a hiss, breath coming in short—if at all. He's overwhelmed, the sharp sting of Iwaizumi's sudden movement tangling with the pleasure of _finally, finally_. It's as much his own thought as it is Iwaizumi's.

“God,” Iwaizumi breathes out. He leans forward, bending to drape himself across Oikawa's back as he begins thrusting in short, sharp movements that punch all the air out of Oikawa's lungs each time. Iwaizumi mouths at Oikawa's nape, teasing at what Oikawa wants.

“Enough,” Iwaizumi snarls. He nips at Oikawa's neck, but doesn't break skin, and then leans back again. The position changes everything, and suddenly Oikawa is seeing stars behind his eyelids, drooling onto the bed as Iwaizumi reaches deeper, faster.

Iwaizumi's hand slides down Oikawa's back. He rips the remains of Oikawa's shirt off, letting the tatters fall to the sheets. Iwaizumi grips at the back of Oikawa's neck, pushing him deeper into the bed.

And Oikawa should resist. He should, some part of his brain says—the part filled with instinctive courtesy, the animal in him that refuses to bow to anyone. But his body trembles as Iwaizumi forces him to submit, forces him to do nothing but feel.

And now, he _feels_.

Iwaizumi, digging his fingers into Oikawa's hip, surely to leave fresh bruises. Iwaizumi, hand pressed against Oikawa's nape, a silent claim, a silent order to submit. Iwaizumi, thrusting into Oikawa at just the right angle to graze his prostate with each snap of Iwaizumi's hips. Iwaizumi, pulling at Oikawa's mind, pleasure simmering across the link between what is left of their souls.

“H-Hajime,” Oikawa chokes out. He feels lightheaded, dizzy with sensation.

“What?” Iwaizumi growls. “Do you think you deserve to touch your cock?”

“ _Please_ ,” Oikawa begs, letting out a half-sob against the sheets. “ _Hajime_.”

“Not with the way you've been acting,” Hajime snarls. There's pricks of pain where his fingers turn to claws against Oikawa's skin, and Oikawa moans.

“You come on my dick or don't come at all,” Iwaizumi says.

They've played this game before. Oikawa should have seen this coming, because they always fall into the same routine. Oikawa can't say he's complaining.

Iwaizumi moves his hand back to Oikawa's hip and uses his grip to pull Oikawa onto his cock each time he thrusts.

“Beautiful,” Iwaizumi whispers hoarsely, and that does it for Oikawa.

He blanks out as he comes, mouth open in a silent cry.

Distantly, he hears Iwaizumi grunt out an emphatic _fuck, Tooru_. And then he's coming, too, a few abortive thrusts following through as he fills Oikawa up.

There's a moment where they both do nothing but breathe. Between them, their bond thrums with life, with intimacy. Oikawa wonders, not for the first time, if his heart can feel so full that it will start truly beating, like how Iwaizumi's once did, long ago.

Eventually, Iwaizumi lets out a contemplative hum, hands still on Oikawa's hips—the only thing holding him up, really.

“For all your talk of tasting you, I was originally planning to eat you out,” Iwaizumi says, sounding thoughtful. Sounding far too put-together, considering Oikawa's thoughts are still mush.

“Wha...” Oikawa manages, and then his brain catches up. “Wait, Haj—oh, _fuck—_ ”

In a quick movement, Iwaizumi pulls out and bends down to lick at Oikawa's hole, catching the first drips of cum that try to slip down Oikawa's thighs. He pauses long enough to bite at Oikawa's ass, right where he'd hit earlier, and Oikawa whines, tender.

But then Iwaizumi seals his mouth over Oikawa's hole, tongue pressing in to taste himself. Oikawa lets out a weak gasp, legs twitching wildly with how oversensitive he is. His nerves feel like fire. Iwaizumi burns him, sears him with desire and pleasure all at once.

“Haji—I c-can't,” Oikawa sobs.

Iwaizumi sucks at Oikawa's hole, and Oikawa's entire body shakes.

It doesn't take too long for Iwaizumi to lick Oikawa clean, but Oikawa feels as though he's riding the tightrope between pain and another orgasm for years. Who knows? He's lived for hundreds, perhaps he's finally lost track of the passage of days. Maybe Iwaizumi's kept him here for decades.

Finally, Iwaizumi pulls away, and Oikawa slumps entirely on the bed.

“You're so dramatic,” Iwaizumi grumbles.

“Mm,” Oikawa replies.

“Bath?” Iwaizumi offers.

“Mm,” Oikawa says.

Iwaizumi gently rolls Oikawa over and lifts him into his arms. Automatically, Oikawa wraps his arms around Iwaizumi's neck, pressing his lips against Iwaizumi's throat.

“Tomorrow,” Oikawa rasps. “Hunt.”

“Tomorrow,” Iwaizumi agrees. “Bath now.”

“Love you,” Oikawa murmurs.

He can feel Iwaizumi's smile, in his heart, without looking up.

“I love you, too,” Iwaizumi murmurs.

 

Oikawa feels power thrum through his veins. Freshly fed on a deer, he's back in top condition. He can smell Iwaizumi, smell the deer he'd hunted, blood still clinging to his lips.

The chase is coming to and end now. Oikawa's breath comes out in harsh pants, senses filled with Iwaizumi, senses filled with the need to claim his sired as his.

Iwaizumi is tiring, and it's his downfall. He could have run, perhaps, if he'd noticed Oikawa coming, but his fatigue has taken a toll on his awareness. Oikawa slams into him, and they go down to the forest floor, landing hard. Iwaizumi lets out a low grunt and he takes the brunt of Oikawa's weight.

He struggles, futilely, underneath Oikawa for only a moment. Oikawa's claws dig punctures into Iwaizumi's wrists, where Oikawa pins him to the ground. Transferring both of Iwaizumi's wrists to one of his hands, Oikawa brings his free hand up to his mouth, licking the blood from the tips of his claws.

“Time to return the favor,” Oikawa purrs, and leans down to run his nose along Iwaizumi's neck.

For a second, Iwaizumi tenses, but then all the fight drains from him, a low whine slipping from his throat.

“Good boy,” Oikawa hums. He bites deep into Iwaizumi's neck and drinks. Together, like this, they are one.

Eventually, Oikawa pulls back, licking Iwaizumi's blood from his lips. Iwaizumi lay beneath him, pliant and panting. He tugs at his wrists, a request to be released.

Oikawa grins, fangs gleaming in the moonlight. “That's not the only thing that needs to be repaid, Iwa-chan.”

“What,” Iwaizumi grunts out.

“Hajime, my love,” Oikawa purrs, leaning down to press a kiss to Iwaizumi's throat. “Did you really think you could tease me so much yesterday and get away with it?”

 


End file.
